


The Rachel: Melissa Chapman

by LilacSolanum



Series: The Rachel [3]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Depression, Gen, Limb Difference, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Consensual Body Sharing, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Suicide mention, Voluntary Controllers, hearing loss, yeerk infestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacSolanum/pseuds/LilacSolanum
Summary: Melissa Chapman has stowed away on The Rachel. Why did she do it, how did she do it, and what has she been doing since her last canon appearance?





	1. Aximili

> MELISSA’S DIARY, SEPTEMBER 3RD, 1991
> 
> _The journal is hardcover, bright pink, and Barbie graces the cover with a glamour headshot. The pages are a pale pink, and have handwriting guidelines._
> 
> It is the first day of third grade!
> 
> I am in the same class with Rachel with Mrs. Bailey. That makes me really happy.
> 
> Kassy is in a difrent class with Mr. Reyis. That makes me really happy to. Rachel likes Kassy. I do not like Kassy.
> 
> Mommy made sphageti tonight. Yummy!
> 
> Miss Jane is my gemnasticks coach.
> 
> _The page next to this has a crude drawing of three bunnies. One bunny is wearing a tie and is labeled_ Daddy _. One bunny is wearing a dress and is labeled_ Mommy _. There is a smaller bunny between them. This bunny is slightly more detailed. She has hair, earrings, and a bow. That bunny is labeled_ Me!

* * *

**AXIMILI**

The classic comedic human “movie” _Groundhog Day_ had ended nearly twenty minutes ago. Marco then revealed a bottle of vodka he had brought for the occasion, which Menderash, Santorelli, and I approached with eagerness. We had discovered that vodka paired quite nicely with the _shilarn_ fruit that grew in the Dome. Prince Jake had left early, and Tobias and Jeanne had opted out of the drinking celebration. I was morphed human with a blanket over my legs. I do not understand why the humans continue to insist I cover myself. They are no longer children, and have all disclosed that they have all copulated with various sets of genitalia. I do not like the constriction of a morphing suit, and I refuse to put one on my new human morph.

I was mixing the vodka and juice for Menderash’s and my third round. Menderash was unable to morph away the effects of recreational toxins, and initially had much trouble easing the resulting veisalgia. However, over the course of much research and many experiments, he had devised ways to drink copiously while alleviating the oncoming dehydration. He had made sure to fill up many glasses with water, and was drinking one between each serving of alcohol. I was very proud of his progress.

I felt a gentle feeling of alertness come from somewhere outside myself. Someone was contacting my communication implant. I then heard various sound alerts, and all the humans started moving toward their “palm pilots.” A palm pilot was a clunky, backwards version of the Andalite communication implant that had a physical interface, rather than a private holographic display. Humans preferred them because they were, in their terms, “less creepy,” yet they are constantly misplacing these contraptions. Marco has broken seven over the course of four years. His screen on this new model was currently cracked.

We all got Prince Jake’s message at once. _Get everyone down to storage room F, now. Something’s inside._

Marco started moving first. He jumped over the back of the couch, bolting toward the nearest elevator. Black fur was already sprouting from his back, and he was rapidly growing. Everything but his form-fitting pants ripped away. I heard Menderash click his tongue in disappointment. He must have approved of Marco’s top.

I followed his lead, morphing away my weak human form as well as my mounting inebriation. I saw Santorelli do much the same, morphing down toward something, and then reversing as soon as his head cleared. Menderash would have to adapt. We smashed ourselves into an elevator that was never designed for an Andalite, a gorilla, and two humans, but none of us complained. We were all battle hardened. No one found Jake’s message comforting.

The door to the storage room was already open. The basement hallways were dim, designed to conserve energy rather than illuminate. In contrast, the storage rooms were lit with too-bright fluorescents. The storage room light cast a perfect rectangle onto the hallway floor. It was an eerie effect, like it was highlighting something sinister. Marco burst past the doorway at full speed. I trotted behind him, keeping pace.

A girl was backed toward a wall, staring at Jake with perfectly round eyes. She was quite pale, both in skin and hair, and wore an oversized “sweater” with “jeans.” I recognized her in some urgent way, but I wasn’t entirely sure how. I am quite skilled when it comes to identifying individual humans, but at times, it is hard to tell if I recognize a face because it belongs to a former acquaintance, or because I saw a similar looking person on television.

There was a small, pink, metallic circle next to her left ear. It almost looked like jewelry, but I knew it had a distinct purpose. Due to the delicate nature of the human ear, many human hosts suffered various levels of single-sided hearing loss. The damage done depended largely on the length of infestation. Some humans suffered mild effects, but some were entirely deaf on one side. The Yeerks had developed small, subtle aids to compensate for the damage. Humans had taken the technology and made it ornamental, as a way to announce their past and show solidarity.

A cat was draped over her shoulder. I quite liked cats back on Earth. There were many on Cassie’s farm. This one was black and white. It seemed calm on the surface, but it was moving its tail in a way that indicated agitation.

I looked from the cat, to the hearing aid, and back at the woman. That is when I recognized her. My tail, too, began to indicate my agitation. Menderash looked at me in surprise.

<Do you remember her?> I asked him cautiously.

“I do not,” he replied. He looked at me, bleary from drink. “Should I?”

<She was on the _Rek Dharsat,_ > I said. <We rescued that ship two seasons ago.>

“Ah,” he said. “I do remember that rescue. I do not remember her individually.” He switched to private thought speak. <I have always admired your commitment and kindness toward our newly freed hosts. To remember this one face out of the hundreds we saved is a testament to your gentle soul.>

He was tipsy and doting, which was a fine place for him to be. I did not want him probing our growing psychic bond and discovering my real feelings. I did not recognize Melissa Chapman because every ex-host that passes my way is immediately burned to memory. I recognized her because I was directly responsible for her infestation.

I will never forget the night Prince Jake asked me to do the unspeakable. I was an _aristh_ , a warrior, and I was bound by my Prince’s orders regardless if I agreed with them or not. I could not say no when Prince Jake asked me to inflict mental and physical pain upon someone on a mission that was not necessary.

Memories flashed through my mind, one after another, unbidden and loathed. A white home, so much like the Earth houses of my friends. Me, approaching the human Chapman, bound by my Prince’s erratic orders. Chapman in front of me, made of flesh and blood, a being of a despicable nature—and, yet, still a being. Me, murmuring evil things to an evil thing, all while deeply believing and _knowing_ that cruelty did not negate cruelty. Pulling manipulations and tactics from a desperate place in my mind, a place I had been terrified to confront ever since. I did not revel in it. That is all I can say. I did not revel in it.

I had avoided the topic of that night the first time we had met, when she was deep in shock aboard my ship. I did greet her, and attempted conversation as best I could in her condition. I gave her Earth food from my personal stock, sacrificing even my Skittles. It did little to assuage my guilt. I had hoped to never see her again.

If Marco recognized her as well, it did not give him pause. He lumbered toward her at his battle gait. While Melissa would have no reason to recognize it as such, she sensed enough to cower. The cat leapt from her arms, its claws out, and Melissa screamed in pain. It ran behind some boxes. A red line blossomed on her shoulder. Prince Jake watched silently, his arms crossed. Prince Jake was purposefully not intervening between Melissa and Marco.

Marco slammed an arm into the wall, trapping Melissa with his bulk. <How did you get here?> he asked, accompanying the thought speech with deep, primal grunts. In response, Melissa fell to her knees. She placed a hand over her wound and began to cry. Marco hesitated, as if he did not expect this response.

Tobias and Jeanne entered the room. Tobias said, <Whoa! Melissa? What?>

Estrid followed closely behind them. I was very surprised to see her. This was twice in one evening she had left her lab. She must have been quite exhausted.

Prince Jake glared at Estrid. “How the _hell_ did you not notice a ninth person on our ship?” he snapped.

<Who?> asked Estrid.

“ _Her!_ ” yelled Prince Jake, pointing.

Estrid cocked her left stalk eye in an honest expression of confusion. She pointed at the stowaway. <Is this one not Marco?>

All the humans were too dumbfounded to respond. I stepped in. <Marco is darker in complexion,> I explained to her gently. <I do understand the confusion. They are roughly the same shape.>

Estrid turned her eye stalks away dismissively. Marco slammed his fist into the wall again. <Alright, now I’m pissed off _and_ emasculated,> he said, looming over Melissa. <What the _fuck_ are you doing? Why the hell are you here?>

She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes. “I want to help,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could, given that her ability to speak was illogically tied to her respiratory system, “My mom was part of the group that—that stole the Blade ship. She’s there. She’s on it. I just—I just want a chance to—”

Marco laughed, not in thought speak, but with his gruff and unsettling gorilla throat. I was surprised. Marco should understand Melissa’s plight more than Melissa herself. Marco was not prone to empathy, however. I suppose I was surprised that I was surprised. <Do you have _any_ idea what we’re up against? We’re not boarding that damn ship again. This isn’t a negotiation situation where we all sit down and talk civilly and come to a compromise. When we see that thing, we’re tossing out every single missile we have and blowing it to smithereens.>

To her credit, Melissa did not break down into further tears, though her face grew more red and she had more difficulty breathing. Prince Jake stepped forward. “Back off, Marco,” he said sternly. Marco turned toward Jake in anger. “But don’t demorph,” he added softly. Marco hesitated, then nodded and stepped away from her. Jake switched places with him. “Stand up,” he said coldly. Melissa complied, visibly shaking once she was on her feet.

Santorelli raised a hand. “So Ax and Menderash kind of know her, but y’all seem pretty familiar too. Care to catch up the newbies?” he asked, jerking his head at Jeanne.

<Sorry,> said Tobias. <She went to school with us.>

< _School_ ,> repeated Marco. <She did not go to spaceship with us.>

“Definitely not spaceship,” said Prince Jake. “Let’s start from the beginning. How the did you get here?”

“C-C-Cassie—she—,” she sputtered, struggling between sobs.

“ _Cassie?_ ” said Jake, his eyes widening in shock.

<Did you work for her?> asked Marco, his thought-speak sounding dangerous and cold.

Melissa nodded, wiping her face and sniffing. “She—she hired me—she—”

<Of course. She makes a big deal out of that,> said Marco, his tone still flat and cold. <Giving ex-hosts jobs.>

“Oh,” said Prince Jake, slowly piecing together pieces of a puzzle.

“I was—I was—I was her assistant,” Melissa said. “She wrote a letter—it’s—”

And then Melissa reached for one of her suitcases.

While I was approaching her with caution rather than rage, I am still Aximili of Earth, a battle tested warrior and a Prince. I do not allow strangers to reach into unfamiliar baggage. I whipped my tail toward her hand in warning, causing her to scream and jump backward. Marco grabbed the suitcase and brought it to Jake. I kept my blade in front of her, as a precaution.

“We’ll find the letter,” said Prince Jake with a mild tone. Marco handed him the suitcase and Jake opened it, carefully rummaging through the contents. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Prince Jake started reading the letter. Marco moved behind him, and Jake adjusted himself so that Marco could see. Estrid started to fidget, and then, finally, she blurted out, <Is my presence required?>

Prince Jake looked up and glared at her. “Yes, Estrid, I need my _estreen,_ who is trained in classical tail fighting, to back up my team in an unsafe situation. Understand?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything. In fact, she lowered her tail in submission. I was impressed. Perhaps her scant military training had taught her to respect her Prince.

Jake and Marco finished the letter. Jake turned and handed it to me. I angled the letter toward Tobias, so that he could read as well.

_Melissa is kind and genuine. You can trust her. Her mom is on the Blade ship, and all she wants is closure. - Cassie_

_P.S. So you know it’s really me - Ax, the first time I met Menderash was when an “associate” of yours wanted to experience Christmas; Jake - whenever you came over to help out around the barn, my dad would make you buttered noodles special because basically everything else we ate was too spicy for you. Tobias - you once alerted me to an injured squirrel, even if you could have eaten her, but you said she stood up to an owl and you thought she was really brave. Marco - I know you’re freaking out more than anyone. I promise you, she’s safe._

_P.P.S. We owe her._

<If Cassie trusts her, then I do,> said Tobias.

<Cassie gives out trust like mardi gras beads,> snapped Marco. <One of her first little ex-host charity cases ended up being symbiote nutjobs. We almost lost her, _permanently. > _

<So you don’t trust Cassie,> said Tobias flatly.

<No, I didn’t say that, I said I don’t trust who _she_ trusts.>

<And that’s different?>

Prince Jake held up a hand and made a brusque shushing noise. He sat down on a nearby box and cradled his head in his hands. Everyone went silent, letting him sort things out. Eventually, he looked up. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Let’s go through this step by step.”

Melissa took a big, shuddering breath and nodded. Jeanne rolled her eyes and made her way over to Melissa, looking at Jake. “She needs a moment,” she said, before putting a hand on Melissa’s shoulder and speaking to her in a voice low enough that even the other humans couldn’t hear. I looked at Sergeant Santorelli. He had knelt down next to Melissa’s suitcase, and was neatly putting back all of her things. He had a blank expression on his face that looked too composed to be natural. Estrid was inching toward the door as if she thought she could escape. Menderash was military-trained and wary of Melissa, but he was mostly bemused by all the proceedings. It was only the four true Animorphs that were truly on edge and suspicious. We remembered the shadowed things done in war. I would not admit it to my _shorm_ , but I agreed with Marco. I was not comforted by Cassie’s endorsement. There were dark reasons for this woman to want to be on our crew, and Cassie’s idealistic streak was still terrifyingly strong.

“Menderash,” said Prince Jake, “Can you prep us to exit Z-space? We’ll need to be in linear time to contact Cassie and verify everything.”

<Can you?> I asked him privately, looking him up and down for signs of extreme inebriation.

<Even after consuming intoxicants, I am still more reliable at the helm than you,> he said, sending me a wave of sloppy affection. I was offended, but I also could not argue. <I will take care of it,> he said to the group. He left the room. As he did, I noticed he was still holding on to the torn remains of Marco’s shirt. He must have grabbed them on the way to the elevator. He would mend it, tailor it for his size, and claim it as his own.

I looked at Melissa, studying her. She was pressed into Jeanne. I believe Jeanne’s outreach had caused her to cry more, not less. Jeanne had wrapped her arms around her, and seemed quite distraught herself. I did know know Jeanne well, but it was easy to see why she looked at Melissa and found nothing in her heart but sympathy. Melissa was deeply upset, and it read as very sincere.

I thought of my hearts beating within me, perfectly in pace with one another. I looked at them each in turn, both the heart that belonged to the Andalite Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, and the heart of Ax, who grew up on Earth.

My Andalite heart saw a sentient being experiencing great stress in front of me. Andalites are herd creatures, and we trust our community. While Cassie could be credulous, she had learned much about suspicion during the war, and there was no need to doubt her judgment. While Melissa was not of my herd, she was trying to find a missing member of hers, and any Andalite would aid and support someone searching for a loved one. My Andalite heart wished to support Melissa. It felt her tears, and it wanted desperately to stop them.

My human heart knew many ex-controllers hid sympathetic Yeerks in fish bowls and ziplock bags, huddling under hardly-functioning Kandrona machines or bartering for Kandrona-infused food. Some humans even sympathized with Yeerks even without becoming a symbiote. My human heart had seen Cassie place her faith in harmful, stupid places and be belligerently naive about reality. My human heart knew we had been directly responsible for Melissa’s infestation, and that she would have to be quite obtuse not to have put it all together. Revenge fills the mind with fire and spice, and it becomes the only thing that is craved. Revenge could make someone cry like that, and pass it off as innocent fear.

We were on a human ship.

I kept my tail between Melissa and Jake.


	2. Marco

> MELISSA’S DIARY, MAY 15TH, 1998
> 
> _ The dairy is a simple spiralized college ruled notebook with a yellow cover. Melissa has decorated it with magazine photos of Hansen, Backstreet Boys, and Jeremy Jason McCole. The entry is written in pink gel pen. It is placed nearly two-thirds through the notebook. In almost every other page of the diary, Melissa had drawn hearts, bows, and bunnies in the margins. There are no doodles on these pages. _
> 
> I hung out with Rachel Berenson today.
> 
> It was really weird. We used to be so close, but then her parents got divorced, the whole family stopped going to temple, and I started growing up way faster than her. Like, remember the fifth grade Valentine’s dance? When Brandon asked me out? THREE WHOLE BOYS asked Rachel out and she said no to all of them! She told me she just wanted to go with me and Cassie Gardner when I don’t even  _ like _ Cassie Gardner, she’s so boring, and when I told her I was going with an actual boy she wasn’t even impressed. I want to grow up, start dating, maybe start training at a  _ real _ gym. Rachel just wants to just mess around and do handstands. Plus, she’s been so  _ weird _ lately. There’s a rumor that she’s on drugs and I believe it! Especially after today!
> 
> Okay, I got a little off track, diary. Let me start over.
> 
> She just randomly came up to me during Mrs. Young’s art class and asked if I wanted to go to the mall after school. I was already planning on going because, duh, it’s the second Tuesday of the month and that’s when The Limited does all their markdowns. That’s probably why she was going, too. She’s not super mature, but she’s got great fashion sense. She actually bought the same pink Abercrombie cardigan I did. It totally looks better on her, so I hid mine in case mom asked, so I could pretend to have lost it. Mom didn’t ask, though. When I think about it, that was one of those times she just gave me cash and drove off. She used to do back to school shopping with me, but now she’s too busy.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> So we went to the mall, and it was cool, I guess. We joked about all the most boring teachers and annoying kids, just like old times. I told her all about how awful dating Walker Kane was, and she said Walker looked like a Mr. Potato Head that’d been left outside and run over by a lawnmower, which was super funny. I asked her why she’s always talking to Marco Champlin who, yeah, is cute but  _ so _ gross, and she said it’s because of her cousin. She told me that one time when she was at Jake B.’s place and Marco was over and he had prescription deodorant because of an excessive sweating disorder. I asked if that was true and she just winked at me. She was just trying to start rumors, which I think is totally hilarious! It felt really good, like maybe this is what was supposed to be. Me and Rachel Berenson, two cute girls in charge of the school. Cassie who? Forget about her, she never washes her jeans and doesn’t even watch TV.
> 
> We stopped in the food court to get milkshakes. We did what we used to do- I got strawberry, she got chocolate, and we asked for an extra cup so we could mix them together and have chocolate-strawberry milkshakes. It was awesome. We started talking about real stuff. I asked her about her dad, and she got all quiet and said she missed him, but was way happier that he lived out in Maryland. I asked why, and she got kind of quiet and then just said, “I’m just happy he’s somewhere peaceful.”
> 
> I started talking to her about how I had a crush on Jai Chowdhury and how it was the biggest crush I’d ever had, but he already had a girlfriend and spent all his time in The Sharing. Her face clouded over and she put her hand on mine.
> 
> “Promise me,” she said, “Promise me you’ll never get involved with anyone in The Sharing.”
> 
> I rolled my eyes. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to,” I said. “My parents won’t let me go anywhere near it, even if they’re full members. They say I’m not ready, which is  _ so _ weird, because most of the kids are in it these days. Why is everyone else ready and I’m not?”
> 
> I felt her grip tighten. “Don’t worry about it,” she said tersely. “Seriously. Don’t.”
> 
> Her nails started to dig into my skin. I grimaced. “Raych, hey—”
> 
> She pulled away like her hands were suddenly burning. “Shit, sorry,” she said. I flinched. Since when does Rachel swear?
> 
> Then, she looked into my eyes, all sudden and wild. It was like someone flipped a switch in her, like she was normal funny Rachel and now she was someone else. “Are your parents still being terrible?” she asked, almost like snarling.
> 
> I blinked. I’ve never told anyone else about my parents.
> 
> “What about them?” I asked, inching away from Rachel slowly. “How did you—why are you  _ asking _ that?”
> 
> She looked at me all serious, like she was the school guidance counselor or something. “I saw you the other day. I saw you wait outside your dad’s office. For a ride home, right?”
> 
> “Yeah,” I said slowly.
> 
> “And he burst out of his office and walked right past you. He went to talk to Mr. Tidwell. You shouted after him and he rolled his eyes and told you to call the taxi company.”
> 
> Diary, you know better than anymore that I used to really want people to notice. I dropped so many hints, and even talked to Mrs. Anderson about it. She didn’t help at all, she just said to join The Sharing. Now, I just want to be left in alone. My parents don’t love me anymore and that’s really embarrassing. I don’t need another prank letter in my gymnastics locker. I don’t want to be someone at school everyone whispers about. Poor, poor Melissa. She’s so boring and bland and uninteresting that even her own parents don’t like her.
> 
> “It’s none of your business,” I said.
> 
> Rachel didn’t give up. “It was really messed up,” she said. “It’s so not fair. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
> 
> She reached over and tried to take my hand. I jerked it away. I suddenly felt so, so mad. What right did Rachel have to pry? 
> 
> “Just because you wanted to go to the mall with me this  _ one day _ doesn’t mean we’re suddenly best friends again,” I said. “You wouldn’t even listen.”
> 
> She blinked, the picture of wide eyed innocence. “Of  _ course _ I’d listen!” she said.
> 
> I rolled my eyes and started counting on my fingers. “Ever since the whole Crocodile Girl thing you’ve stopped coming to gymnastics, stopped talking to anyone who isn’t Cassie, you’re always sleeping during class, you’re a huge bitch to anyone who tries to talk to you— you’re not some big deal, you know! You were on The Barry And Cindy Sue Show  _ one time _ !”
> 
> Rachel stared at me with her jaw dropped. I don’t think anyone had called her out on this stuff ever. She deserved it.
> 
> She looked all sad. “That’s not what happened at all,” she said.
> 
> “Okay,” I said. “So what did happen.”
> 
> “Nothing,” she muttered.
> 
> “Don’t say something happened and then just say nothing!” I said. “Oh my god.”
> 
> “It’s complicated,” she said. She was making her fists into balls. I can’t explain why, diary, but it was kind of scary. Her arms were shaking.
> 
> “It’s not,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’ve been acting like you’re the queen bee of the eighth grade but you’re  _ not. _ No one even really likes you anymore.” 
> 
> Rachel slammed her fists on the table so hard that it tilted toward her. It surprised me. Scared me, even. I’ve seen her lose her temper before, but this was different. It was like she was emptied of everything but anger. “You don’t know  _ anything _ ,” she hissed.
> 
> Everyone in the food court was staring at us. I looked around, blushing. “Don’t make a scene!” I said.
> 
> “ _ I’m _ not making a scene.  _ He’s _ staring!” said Rachel, and then she pointed at the biggest, angriest looking skinhead biker guy I’d ever seen. And I mean, she chose him pretty specifically. Like,  _ everyone _ was staring at her. If she wanted to mess with someone, she easily could have picked someone her own size, but no. Not Rachel.
> 
> The skinhead was sitting with two other guys that were way scrawny. They all looked about the same age, but when it came to physical size, he sort of looked like their dad. I mean, you could fit five of me in there and probably three Rachels, maybe even four. Not that she’s gotten big since quitting gymnastics— she’s thinner, really— but she’s so tall!
> 
> Tall or not, she’s still a teenaged girl, and she should  _ not  _ be drawing attention from people like  _ that _ . But she was. Not only did she point at him blatantly, she stood up and said “Hey!  _ Hey! _ ”
> 
> He looked at her totally bewildered, like he thought this was funny. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be this mad. Tell me how to make it better,” he said, grinning with crooked teeth.
> 
> Before I even knew what was happening, Rachel had marched over to where the guy was sitting and had pushed him backwards in his chair. He almost fell, but only because he was taken so off guard. He snapped back upright. His face went bright red, and I thought he was going to reach out and choke Rachel, but he didn’t. I don’t think he held back because he’s a good person. I think he held back because Rachel is a teenager and people were watching.
> 
> “What the fuck are you doing!” he asked.
> 
> His friends were cracking up. I felt frozen. I knew I should go and stop her, but I couldn’t move.
> 
> Rachel grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward. She didn’t seem worried at all. He was totally on the verge of cracking her skull on the dirty mall floor, and she didn’t care. She grinned. It was like she  _ wanted _ him to fight back.
> 
> “Is this what ‘sweethearts’ do?” she said, almost laughing, like this whole thing was super funny to her. “Is this what being a ‘sweetheart’ is?”
> 
> I looked around for security. No one was coming. All the guy’s friends were laughing still. From a distance, it looked like Rachel was this guy’s jailbait girlfriend and she was just messing around.
> 
> “What is your  _ problem _ , bitch?” he said, and the way he spat  _ bitch _ felt more violent than anything. Rachel apparently thought so too, because she pulled her arm back and punched him right in the nose.
> 
> The man screamed “ _ WHAT THE FUCK _ ,” louder than anything I’ve ever heard. The whole food court went dead quiet. You couldn’t hear anything.
> 
> And then Rachel started laughing.
> 
> It was a wild laugh. It sounded like nothing I’ve never heard from her before. It sounded like it came from an animal.
> 
> All the guy’s friends went “Ooooooh!” like it was all still a joke, but when the guy removed his hand from his face, there was blood. Everyone got really quiet after that.
> 
> “You  _ bitch _ ,” he said, and the word was just as scary the second time.
> 
> I think Rachel would have pushed him again, I really do. I think she would have been in his face, over and over, until he snapped and broke every bone in her body. I was scared for her, really scared. She was acting like she didn’t care about her own life.
> 
> Fortunately, some random guys did what I couldn’t. They came running from the opposite end of the food court. One was tall, mixed, and  _ really _ hot. The other was some pudgy pale boy who was kind of familiar, but I didn’t know why I remembered him at all. They both grabbed Rachel and pulled her away.
> 
> “Sorry,” muttered the pale boy. “Sorry. She didn’t mean it. Sorry.”
> 
> “Yes,” said the hot guy. He sounded really weird, like he had an accent or something. “She is unable to regulate her emotions, resulting in erratic behavior. This is a common occurrence in young humans, due to the hormonal imbalances they suffer in adolescence.”
> 
> “What the  _ fuck? _ ” said the skinhead. The pale boy got between Rachel and the scary guy. He looked up at her, giving her this really weird stare.
> 
> “Why are you  _ here? _ ” she snapped at him.
> 
> “$10 ground score,” said the boy. “We’re gonna have a Taco Bell pig out. Why don’t we go to the one on Milpas Street instead, okay?”
> 
> The hot guy looked at the skinhead. “Yes,” he said. “We will go elsewhere.” He paused. “Even if they do not have a Cinnabon at that particular establishment.”
> 
> “He called me sweetheart,” said Rachel with a growl.
> 
> The boy just kept staring at her with that totally creepy expression. “Please don’t scare me,” he said, so soft I could barely hear it.
> 
> I guess those were some kind of magic words, because she immediately went slack. “I’m sorry,” she said.
> 
> “Get her the  _ fuck _ out of my face,” said the skinhead. “Don’t  _ ever _ let me see any of you,  _ ever _ again.”
> 
> I wanted to run. Had the guy noticed me? Had Rachel Berenson ruined the mall for me  _ forever _ ?
> 
> The weird guys didn’t seem concerned. “We’re leaving,” said the pale one, guiding Rachel away. The hot one hesitated, then said, “Do your conditions begin immediately, or will you allow me to stop at the Cinnabon? It will not take long. I am very skilled at the transaction.”
> 
> “ _ GO! _ ” shouted the skinhead. The hot one turned and walked away quickly.
> 
> Rachel looked at me while the pale dude took her away. “See you tomorrow?” she asked, as if nothing had happened.
> 
> “No!” I said, grabbing our milkshakes and throwing them away. I never wanted to see Rachel Berenson and her crack den boys again.

* * *

  
**MARCO**

I never really had much of a connection to Melissa Chapman aside from the lunch line back in middle school. I was a Champlin, she was a Chapman, can I make it _ any _ more  _ ob _ vious. Before I started making sure my dad left me enough cash to make PB and Js and brown bag it, I had a few days when there wasn’t any money in my school lunch account. Once, Melissa offered to buy lunch for me, making a show of it so everyone would know how nice she was. When I refused, she got offended. See, that’s thing about pity. It’s not really about  _ you _ , it’s about that other person wanting to feel better for being  _ around _ you. I never really liked her after all that.

Did I feel shitty about what happened to her? Yeah. When Melissa stopped coming to school, I made sure Rachel asked Chapman where she went and let the rest of us know the answer. He said something about her studying gymnastics abroad. Rachel looked up the program and it was real, sure, but it had started weeks earlier. It was all bullshit. Her disappearance obviously had something to do with the Yeerks, there was no doubting that. The real question was if she was infested or dead. No one wanted to find out, so no one did. We just knew Melissa was gone, and we accepted it.

Toward the end of the war, Rachel brought up Melissa again when we were both shitfaced off Captain and cokes. She told me she’d started killing human hosts. I told her I was, too. Had to. We had both noticed that there were fewer obituaries these days and more surprise business trips. People didn’t want to alarm anyone by skyrocketing Santa Barbara’s death rates past Detroit, so suddenly people weren’t dying anymore. They spent a summer with grandma. They got internships. They went to out of state colleges.

Rachel asked me if I thought they’d killed Melissa. I said she was a young, healthy girl, and a waste of a good host if they offed her. She asked if I was just trying to make her feel better. I said yes. She cried.

I thought of Rachel’s smile, and the way it was always genuine and honest. That was Rachel’s thing. Whatever she was feeling was exactly what she was feeling. When she was happy, she was happy. When she was in love, she was in love. When she was craving blood in her claws and needed a fix, she was inconsolable and terrifying, but that wasn’t her fault. It was the Yeerks. The Ellimist. Elfangor. Before the war, Rachel had just been a girl without bullshit. You could trust her smile. It only ever meant she was happy.

Look, when you die, you die. There’s no afterlife. There’s no heaven. There’s no transparent cartoon version of you that rises up from your body. You just die. Still, mom dragged me to church every Sunday until I was eleven, and old habits do their thing. I sent a thought out to Rachel, like she could somehow hear me.  _ Melissa’s okay, _ I thought.  _ And she got hot. _

I hoped that made Rachel smile.

I shook the thoughts away. They were useless and meant nothing. Rachel Berenson was nothing but ash, and Melissa Chapman was full of shit.

“Okay,” said Jake, speaking in the slow way he had when he was trying to figure someone out, “So you were on a rogue Yeerk ship?”

Melissa nodded and wiped at her eyes. She’d gotten herself under control. “Yes,” she said. “Sarthak—my Yeerk—and I weren’t on Earth for long at all. My parents— they were voluntary, sort of. I guess they agreed to cooperate if the Yeerks left me alone. But my dad’s Yeerk got mixed up in some—bad stuff,” she said. I watched as Jake flinched. “So, um, they gave me to an off-planet Yeerk, so that my parents would never see me and get all emotional and become inconvenient hosts.” 

Jake hissed, like he’d been punched. I balled my fists.

<She’s acting,> I told Jake. <Her or the Yeerk inside her. This luxury cruise comes with a big ol’ scoop of danger. We’re the Titanic, except instead of at least  _ trying _ to avoid the iceberg, we’re yelling “heeeere icy icy iceberg!” The only reason you’d actively  _ want in  _ on this death trap is if you had some sweet kamikaze dreams. She’s got a pretty story, and I can see how Cassie fell for this schmaltzy tearjerker drama, but something is  _ up _ .>

Jake held up a hand to me, and shook his head. I crossed my arms, and glared at him. He leaned toward Melissa.

“So you were sent off planet when the war ended,” he said, “And you were infested until Ax rescued you and your crew.”

“Yes,” she said. I looked at her hearing aid. Some ex-hosts wore them when they didn’t really have to, but some actually benefited from the extra amplification. You could tell who was being dramatic and who needed the assistance by how often the thing lit up. Melissa’s was blinking constantly. She would have been infested for a good chunk of time, or had a particularly clumsy Yeerk, or both. My mom actually didn’t wear one of these things at all. There was no point. Her left ear was completely useless.

<The  _ Rek Dharsat  _ was a small service craft helmed by an emergency maintenance crew,> said Ax. <It held Yeerks specialized in engine mechanics, HVAC, water systems, software upgrades, Kandrona tech, things of that nature. It is a relatively safe position. A maintenance crew would likely be called in the aftermath of a battle to help mend a damaged ship, when an enemy would be least likely to strike.> He turned a stalk eye toward Melissa. <Your parents must have held some sway with their Yeerks.>

Melissa took a deep, shuddering breath. “I guess,” she said quietly. “I never got the chance to ask them.”

I watched in horror as confusion spread across Jake’s face. It began with a slight head tilt and a silent moving of his lips, traveling up to his eyebrows which furrowed in thought. “Wouldn’t your dad know?” he asked slowly. “He was on Earth when the war ended. He should still  _ be _ on Earth. Right?”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Um,” said Melissa, her voice catching. 

For a brief moment, hardly even a second, the gorilla rose to the surface of my mind, as if it felt me falter and was using the opening for a desperate escape. I swallowed it down, even if a part of me wanted nothing more than to let the gorilla do its thing. I’d been intentionally hiding the fate of Hedrick Chapman from Jake for years.

Melissa was having trouble speaking. I jumped in, stealing the conversation from her, controlling the news and how it was shared. <He’s dead,> I said bluntly.

Jake face went blank. “How?” he asked.

<I don’t know,> I lied. <Probably got caught up in some symbiote crap. Cassie told me. Ask her.> She would know, and his asking her would buy me some time to figure something out. Distract him. Make him forget.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “ _ Marco. _ ”

<What?> I asked. I held up my arms in a ‘who, me?’ gesture. Bless the gorilla. Four hundred pounds of muscle and meat, yet I could still look adorable. <I can’t tell you what I don’t know, buddy.>

“What happened to him,” asked Jake. He wasn’t buying my lie. No one was.

Melissa spoke up, her voice sounding childlike and small. “He let himself go,” she said softly.

Shock threaded itself through the room, engulfing all of us in little fucked up depression cocoons. Except for, apparently, Estrid, who gave us about ten seconds to dwell on the revelation before shouting, <He grew obese? Is this shameful?>

<When did you last have your translation implant upgraded?> asked Ax cautiously.

<Immediately after the military gave it to me, they declared me dead,> she said dryly. <So not recently.>

“It is now a euphemism for something else,” said Jeanne softly. She was hovering around Melissa like an overprotective big sister. I guess she was ready for a break from all our manly musks, even if she had to find it with a stowaway who probably wanted us all dead. “Ex-hosts retreat into the place their mind created to help them cope inside their own bodies. Once in that state, nothing about the body is felt, and no physical warning signs are noticed. If a host enters that trance and is not disturbed, they often starve to death. It used to be an accidental tragedy, but as of late…” she said, trailing off and looking toward Melissa.

“It happened before I was rescued. I know he did it on purpose,” said Melissa distantly. “He told everyone he was taking a trip. He made sure no one would check in on him.”

<Oh,> said Estrid, shocked. She hesitated. <A pity,> she said. Coming from her, that was a very heartfelt eulogy.

I looked at Jake.

Chapman’s death hadn’t exactly been national news. No one knew how important he’d been to the Animorphs. I’d never told the stories that involved him, that he was the first Controller we identified, that we had used him countless times to force the empire’s hand, that he was the father of Rachel Berenson’s childhood friend. For all the media knew, he was just another controller who worked at Santa Barbara Middle School, nothing more than another name on a host roster. His death came and went quietly. I only knew he’d kicked it because Cassie gave me a call. She had people on her staff that just kept tabs on every ex-controller group and watched obituaries.

Cassie and I talked about it for a while. We agreed not to tell Jake. It had happened around a year ago, when Jake had started teaching and, you know, leaving the house. We said we’d tell him, but only when the time was right. When he had his brain settled and could separate his internal guilt from what had been necessary to save our planet. When he was strong enough.

The time was  _ not _ right.

Jake looked pale. He went slack. His eyes completely glossed over. He was looking at Melissa with his lips parted, like he couldn’t hold himself together enough to even shut his mouth.

<It wasn’t you, man,> I whispered to him. <It was the Yeerks that fucked him up in the first place. It wasn’t you.>

He looked at me, his head turning toward me in a lazy way, like he was a baby with shitty neck muscles. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked with a flat and choked voice. I had been speaking to him privately, but he answered as if we were having a group chat in the kitchen. Everyone looked at us.

<Because I didn’t,> I said, this time opening up to everyone since apparently that’s what we were doing. <Because I know about thousands of other ex-hosts who let go, hosts who had nothing to do with us, hosts that were in New Jersey or Washington or Hong Kong. Hell, you know what, Jake? One time, I even found my  _ mom  _ all comatose on my couch, thirty hours into the world’s most intense daydream,> I said, keeping my tone light. <Now,  _ she  _ wasn’t doing it on purpose, but things  _ happen. _ Okay? It’s the war, not you. We did some shit to Chapman, but we did a lot of shit to a lot of people. Him letting go was his choice, not yours, so fucking get over it.>

Melissa twisted her fingers in her shirt. “You guys won, so I’m sure whatever you did to my dad was for a good reason,” she asked hoarsely.

<You don’t know what you’re talking about,> I said, knowing I sounded cold and leaning into it. <We did some dark shit. Shit we had to do to win. Sometimes it was selfish shit. This is a game for big boys, and we’ve got blood on our hands, our elbows, our knees, and our feet. Did Cassie tell you any  _ real _ war stories? The ones we don’t talk about in our books? About how we broke every rule, told every lie, and threw anyone in our way  _ right _ into the Yeerk pool? This life isn’t some cute little adventure. This isn’t you and your fucking _ cat  _ traversing the galaxy in search of your mommy. This is ugly, and little girls don’t belong.>

<Jesus, Marco!> said Tobias. <She’s  _ crying! _ >

<So?> I asked. I glanced at Jake. He was still in shock. It wouldn’t be the first time I made the call for him because he couldn’t function. 

I turned back to Melissa. <At this point, I don’t care if you’re a Yeerk sympathizer, a full on symbiote, or just an idiot girl who doesn’t understand reality. There’s no  _ point  _ to you. This ship has limited resources, and you provide nothing. We don’t need a Care Bear.> I pointed toward her suitcase. <Pack up. We’ll drop you off at the nearest Andalite embassy.  _ They _ can deal with you. Hope they don’t awkwardly kidnap you to do a bunch of experiments. It’s a weird habit they have.>

Melissa shut her eyes for a moment, like she planned to click her heels three times and go back to her delusions. She took in a deep breath, opened her eyes, and said, “I have a software virus. It can shut down the Blade ship remotely. Next time you see them, give me 15 seconds, and they’ll be dead in the water.”

<Bullshit,> I said at the exact time Jake said, “Go on.”

We looked at each other, his face expressionless and puffy with sadness, mine a monkey. But if I wasn’t a monkey, I’d be glaring at him.

“Demorph, Marco,” he said. “Let’s listen to her.”

< _ Why, _ > I snapped.

“We owe her that,” he said.

I clenched my fists. If I didn’t demorph, he’d just shut down more. <Stay in tail striking range of her,> I said to Ax privately, shrinking down to human against my  _ much _ better judgment.

Melissa was good. She was really, really good. She knew Cassie, so she had to know the real state Jake was in, the depression that I desperately helped him hide so that the world could have a clean, uncomplicated hero. She had to have known we we had been directly involved with the night she got infested—I mean, she’d seen the Ax-man himself, and the whole naive thing was clearly just an act. She was smart. She knew to pull on Cassie’s guilt, and she knew to use her own dad’s death to tie puppet strings to Jake. She was out for us. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it. 

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe she was still infested. Yeerks can still feed themselves, you know. Cute little kandrona gummies were invented just before we ended the war, and the recipe was widespread enough that leechfuckers roamed the Earth surviving on fruit snacks.

Or maybe her mom had gotten to her first. Maybe she was under The One’s thrall, and Ax wasn’t enough of a spy for it. We already knew about Ax. We didn’t know about Melissa.

I saw right through this bitch, and I was not impressed.


	3. Tobias

> MELISSA’S DIARY, JUNE 11TH, 2003
> 
> _This diary is another notebook, but it is brand new, and there are no stickers. This is written on the first page, in blue BIC ink. It is the only thing written in the entire notebook._  
> 
> 
> It’s 3 AM and I need to say this. I want to say this. I want to fill in the gaps between when I was rescued and when I was captured. I want these memories to be as fresh as possible.
> 
> It was the night my dad was kidnapped. I get that now. I get that he was never my dad, that he was Iniss 272, that Iniss must have done something terrible that made the Andalite Bandits—Animorphs, I guess—try to take him out. Whatever it was, it happened.
> 
> Back then, all I knew was that something large and furry had grabbed me, and that it knew enough to restrain me. I didn’t connect that it was a gorilla at all. I was so, so scared, and it didn’t _act_ like a gorilla. It acted like a human. It blindfolded me, and put a gag in my mouth. I truly thought it was a monster.
> 
> I screamed and screamed and screamed, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of gunshots and roars. I focused on getting myself out of my restraints. I spit out the gag first. The Animorphs left with my dad shortly after. I wiggled out of the ties, and found my mom knocked out cold. I didn’t know what to do. I took to the streets, calling for my dad, hoping he would hear me.
> 
> The police came. Someone brought me to a car. They shoved me in the back, like I was some criminal, and no one would tell me what happened to my parents.
> 
> They brought me to a hotel and shoved me in some room. I had no idea what was going on. I tried to leave, but the front desk person caught me, and told me to go back in. That scared me even more. I couldn’t figure out why a hotel concierge wanted me to stay in my room. Now, I get that they were a Controller, and were in on the plan. Almost a third of the city was controlled by that point.
> 
> I had nothing else to do but wait, so I waited. My memory of that time is blurred, save for a handful of details that come with perfect clarity. There was a cigarette burn on the nightstand. It wasn’t a trashy hotel, not really, but that doesn’t ever stop trashy people. I mostly slept, but when I was awake, I watched reruns on cable. I completely zoned out in front of a Mary Tyler Moore marathon. I’d never really watched the show before, and I probably won’t watch it ever again. There was one episode where everyone was snowed in. I always liked it when sitcoms had a snowed in episode. I liked the idea of it, of being trapped with your friends and family and having to talk through something. The shower curtain was navy. Someone would come visit in the mornings, every day at 9 AM, to tell me everything was fine and that all I had to do was stay in the hotel room. She would bring me those really fluffy hotel waffles from continental breakfast, and leave me two TV dinners to microwave later.
> 
> After four days of being trapped and forgotten, my “parents” came for me.
> 
> I saw my “dad” first. I jumped up and ran to him. I hugged him as tight as I could, crying, telling him how scared I’d been. He put his arms around me, but I knew something was off. His hug was distant, somehow, as if he were trying to be far away from me as he could. I pulled away and frowned at him.
> 
> “Dad?” I asked.
> 
> He sighed. “My host has agreed to the terms,” he said. “Yours?”
> 
> My “mom” came into the room, followed by the girl who visited me at 9 AM. “Mom” was quiet for a moment. “She has not,” she said finally. “She never will. I am giving her a chance to speak regardless, for Hedrick’s sake.”
> 
> “Dad” looked “mom” twice over and nodded. “He _has_ been helpful,” he said.
> 
> “What are you talking about?” I asked, choked and confused. They ignored me. My “mom” laughed, and the sound was dark and sick and not like my mom at all. That’s when I started to realize that, somehow, these people were not my parents.
> 
> “Kaye is being unreasonable,” she said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.” She pushed the hotel door open. I let myself get dragged behind her like a doll.
> 
> We went to an elevator. My “dad” pushed a complex series of buttons, and then we went down and down and down and down.
> 
> We ended up in the Pool. Back then, I thought it was a cave, even if the walls were too smooth and I could see light fixtures in the ceiling. I was in shock and terrified. My mind defaulted the information I couldn’t understand into something familiar. The police had left me in a hotel room, my “parents” came after four days and pulled me into some elevator, and this was a natural cave.
> 
> I was pulled into some room. I still don’t have a full understanding of the Earth Pool structures, but I think it was just a generic meeting room. My mom pushed me into a chair. It was just one of those metal chairs with flat plastic cushions on the seat and the back. They were the kind of chairs set up in the gym for school assemblies. So much of the Yeerk invasion was just normal. They quietly hid in everything average and beige.
> 
> The random person from the hotel reached into her pocket. I never got her name. Knowing how things went down in Santa Barbara, she’s probably dead. Maybe she’s not. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones. Maybe she managed to pull through all the resulting trauma. Maybe. I’ll never know. I’ll call her 9 AM. She pulled out something that looked like a gun, but sleeker somehow. I flinched.
> 
> 9 AM looked at me, then raised her eyebrows. “You guys are sure about this?”
> 
> “Our hosts have been cooperative in the past,” said my “mom.” “And have been so based on one condition. Of course, both Issa—”
> 
> “Sub-Visser 231,” sneered my “dad.”
> 
> My “mom” rolled her eyes. “Of course. Sub-Visser 231 and I knew it was an impossible promise to make, but we took the charade as far as we could. We can keep it up no longer. The child saw the Bandits. It is over for her.”
> 
> “We are not heartless,” said my “dad.” “We will give them time to say goodbye.”
> 
> “How sentimental,” said 9 AM dryly. “And illegal.”
> 
> “Nobody’s perfect,” said my “mom,” giving 9 AM a look that said everything. She had dirt on 9 AM, and 9 AM wanted whatever debts were between them to go away.
> 
> The information must have been pretty bad, because 9 AM sighed. “Suit yourself,” she said. Someone knocked on the door. 9 AM opened it, and two Hork-Bajir walked in. I had never seen one before. They were like something from a nightmare. I screamed. 9 AM rolled her eyes, clicked something on her gun, and shot me. She’d set it at the lowest level, so it didn’t hurt at all, but I was stunned. When I came to, my “dad” was tipping his head toward a metal container, as if emptying his ear of water. I didn’t really see the Yeerk slide out, but I heard the soft splash of the Yeerk hitting water. I couldn’t connect what that meant, couldn’t possibly figure out why something had fallen from my dad’s ear into water, but it made me feel so, so sick.
> 
> As soon as the Yeerk was out of his head, my dad— my real dad— immediately lurched toward me, wrapping me up in his arms. This time, he was the one with a tight and desperate embrace, and I was the one who did not return it. I sat there, numb, as he draped himself over me.
> 
> Behind him, I saw 9 AM point her dracon beam at my dad. “Careful, Hedrick,” she said. “You have fifteen minutes.” The Hork-Bajir gave 9 AM the canister, then gently grabbed my “mom” from behind. He tightly wrapped his arms around her midsection, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. She leaned into him, like this was something they practiced. 9 AM brought the container up to my “mom’s” ear.
> 
> My dad pulled away from me and looked me right in my eyes. I hadn’t realized it until then, but I hadn’t made true and meaningful eye contact with my parents in years. That’s when I snapped to, and held my dad has tightly as I could. It had been so, so long since I’d been this close to him, smelling his cologne and holding onto him like an infant. He ran his fingers through my hair. “Baby girl,” he muttered. “Bunny. My Melly Bunny.”
> 
> “Daddy Bunny,” I choked.
> 
> Then, I heard my mom scream.
> 
> “You _promised_ !” she was saying. She was shrieking it, tearing her vocal chords, making her voice sound inhuman and raw. “You _promised,_ you _promised,_ you _promised_!”
> 
> My dad jumped up and went to her. He forced her hands into his. The Hork-Bajir holding her in place looked bored.
> 
> “The deal changed,” said my dad. “And we have to change with it.”
> 
> “No!” said my mom. The Hork-Bajir gripped her closer. She never stopped struggling. “No! They said it was just a few bodies. Just a few, here and there, just enough to give good Yeerks good homes, and only those who wanted the help. They _lied!_ They _lied_!”
> 
> “We were kidding ourselves,” said my dad quietly. “They will win, Kaye. The Yeerks will win. Calm down, and say goodbye our daughter. Most parents won’t have ever have this chance. This is a gift.”
> 
> At that, my mother went still, like she was a puppet and someone had dropped all her strings. When she spoke, her voice was flat, furious, and terrifying. “This is a _gift_?”
> 
> My dad was silent for a moment. Then, he reached forward, and grabbed my mom’s hands in his. “I miss you when they feed,” he said, his voice choked. “When you got yourself put in the cages, you took yourself away from _me._ ”
> 
> My mom’s jaw dropped. She stared at my dad, mouth agape. Then, she spoke with raw horror in her voice. “Who _are_ you?”
> 
> “I’m—I’m practical,” said my dad. He didn’t sound very sure.
> 
> 9 AM nodded at the Hork-Bajir. The Hork-Bajir dropped my mom. My mom took a few shaking steps away from my dad, then lurched toward me, falling to her knees and pressing my body into her embrace, so tight it was hard to breathe. She pressed my face down and hid it in her shoulder, her hand on my head. I forced myself away so that I could look at her face. I always thought my mom was the prettiest woman in the world. I still do.
> 
> Dad knelt down and put my one hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He had a strange look on his face, something empty and exhausted. He had known this was going to happen, he had done nothing to stop it, and now that everything was shattering he could only find a distant resignation. “This is about Melissa, not us,” he said.
> 
> My mom’s face screwed into tears. “Oh, god,” she said.
> 
> Dad wrapped his arms around mom and me. I could feel my mom stiffen, but she didn’t push him away. I’m so glad, because now I’ll have this memory of my family holding each other one last time. “Melly Bunny, baby, listen. Are you listening?” he asked in a quiet voice, speaking slowly, just like when was teaching me my times tables in third grade. It was comforting. I nodded.
> 
> “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice breaking. “You’re so strong, bunny. You’re so, so strong. Look. Something very, very bad is happening to our planet,” he said. I could hear my mom’s bitter laugh. “Some bad aliens have found us, and they can take over our bodies, just like we’re puppets.”
> 
> I think I was supposed to be horrified. I think I was supposed to scream and cry. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t. Instead, I felt almost happy, because I finally had a reason for everything that had been happening. I looked up at my daddy. “Is that why you’ve been so mean to me?”
> 
> My mom screamed. “You _promised!_ You _promised!_ ” My dad tried to shush her. The Hork-Bajir grabbed her away from us. I heard myself make a sound that was half a sob, half a shout. I leaned toward her, trying to grab her, but my dad pulled me back, turned me around, and held me.
> 
> “Yes, bunny, that’s why,” he said, openly crying. There’s something so scary about seeing your dad cry. Dads aren’t supposed to cry. They’re supposed to be equally silly and stern, but not cry. Moms can cry. That’s okay. Seeing a dad cry is seeing something secret and forbidden. “The Yeerks—that’s what the aliens are called—they’re sometimes too busy to know how to raise a human daughter.”
> 
> I sniffed. “So you still love me?” I asked. I looked at my mom. “You still love me, Mommy Bunny?”
> 
> My mom cried out, shocked and pained. My dad pressed me even closer, rubbing my back. “I have never, nor will ever, love anything more,” he murmured into my ear.
> 
> My mom shouted. “Oh god, bunny, I love you _so much._ I love you _so, so, so much._ ”
> 
> I wrapped my arms around my dad, still so lost and confused, but knowing I needed to say it. “I love you too, Daddy Bunny. I love you too, Mommy Bunny.”
> 
> “Five minutes,” said 9 AM.
> 
> “Bunny, listen,” said my dad. My mom was still screaming about how much she loved me, like if she shouted it enough, everything would undo itself and we’d be a family again. “Me and my Yeerk, we picked someone out for you special, okay? They’re a nice Yeerk. They promised not to make you cry for fun, or to look at your most private memories. And they’re going to take you on a spaceship, because it would upset Mommy Bunny and me too much to have you around on Earth. You’re going to see the stars, Melissa, my Melissa. Oh, my sweet baby, you’re going to see so many beautiful things.”
> 
> “What?” I remember saying. That’s when my mom managed to break free. I don’t know how she did it. She’s sort of a frail woman, always buying diet food and magazines, but I think she found something buried deep in all mothers. A power that’s nearly supernatural, passed from womb to womb to womb, summoned when a child is endangered. My tiny mother, all of 5’1”, escaped from a Hork-Bajir, and she pulled me from my father.
> 
> “ _No_ ,” she said, her voice shaken but her tone firm. “No. _You_ will see nothing. Your _Yeerk_ will see everything. This isn’t over. Don’t you ever stop fighting, Melissa. Don’t _ever_ stop fighting. I love you so, so _much_.”
> 
> And then she grabbed my hand and ran for the door.
> 
> I don’t know what she thought she was going to do. Now, with all the knowledge I have, I’m glad she didn’t make it out the door. Anyone outside would have killed a Yeerkless host. Instead, 9 AM just stunned her with a Dracon beam. She fell to the floor.
> 
> “Well,” said 9 AM, “That was less than ideal.”
> 
> “I can’t control Kaye,” said my dad. He was looking at the floor. I don’t think he wanted to look at his family anymore.
> 
> “Well, we can,” said 9 AM. She grabbed the metal canister, and brought it to my mom’s ear. Then, she gave it to my dad, and he brought his Yeerk to his head on his own.
> 
> There was silence for a moment. Then, my dad’s Yeerk laughed. “What was Kaye _thinking?_ ” he asked.
> 
> “Not much,” said my mom’s Yeerk dryly. “Now that the child is out of the way, do you think we can finally divorce? Shelan 493 and Raniss 988 had such fun with theirs. I believe at one point Shelan staged a fainting at her host’s job.”
> 
> 9 AM laughed, and then I met Sarthak 733 for the first time.

* * *

  


**TOBIAS**  
  


There was a bright _dinging_ noise, indicating that someone was about to use the intercom. Menderash’s voice floated through the air. “It will be sixty seconds until we exit Z-space.”

Everyone grimaced, including me. Well, you can’t grimace with a beak, but I did it inside. Popping in and out of Z-space was pretty rough, especially for people with human bodies. Estrid and Ax were relatively fine with it, and I did okay, though I hated the weird feelings that happened during the jump. It gave Jake a headache, made Jeanne dizzy, and it bothered Menderash’s bad joints. Santorelli wasn’t really affected, but Marco couldn’t handle it at _all_.

I felt the shift coming, and I closed my eyes.

Like morphing, it doesn’t _technically_ hurt. It’s not pain the way pain is typically defined. But you _feel_ pressure coming in around you, pressing on your lungs, you _feel_ something bubbling up and building inside of you, you _feel_ your body get shocked into a new reality. It lasts for just a few seconds, tops, but it’s the worst.

The intercom sounded off again. “It is done,” came Menderash’s voice. “We are just outside the _Frolar_ system. I will now calibrate paths back to both Earth or Leera.”

I don’t think anyone but Ax knew what that meant, but we all pretended to understand anyway. Marco stumbled back into the room, pale and shaking. He must have left during the jump. He gestured toward Estrid. “Hey, there’s a weird, bulbous blue vase looking thing you’ve got on table in your lab.”

<Yes?> said Estrid.

“Is that important?” asked Marco.

Estrid paused. <Not currently,> she said.

“Good,” said Marco. “Because I just puked in it. You’re welcome.”

Marco flopped down on a nearby box while Estrid said some very rude things with her stalk eyes. Jake was wearing his token uniform of a flannel shirt over a t-shirt, and he peeled off the flannel and tossed it at Marco. Marco let it fall on his body without reacting.

“I don’t want your clothes,” he said. “They smell like Lucille Ball’s bedsheets.”

“Please, _please_ put it on,” said Jake. “I swear to god, you are _actively_ pointing your nipples at me.”

“It’s cold down here and I like you,” said Marco. Still, he put it on, and looked up at Jake. “You good?” he asked.

“I’m good,” said Jake softly. “Are _you_ good?”

Marco closed his eyes, leaned against the wall, and shrugged. Jake seemed satisfied with that. They’d been pretty tense before, but I guess the Z-space jump sort of reset them back to normal.

“Alright,” said Jake, “We need to talk about this virus.” He paused for a minute. “Ax,” he said, “Would you please step out?”

Ax seemed confused and offended, but just for a moment. As soon as he locked into what Jake was asking, he went slack. <Of course,> he said.

“I just don’t want—”

<I know.>

All things considered, Ax did pretty well dealing with The One still being inside of him. He even joked about it now and then. But right then, when he was suddenly reminded, you could see the weight of it hit his body all at once. His shoulders slumped, his tail sank, and he moved slowly, like he was walking through water.

Part of me wanted to go with him and keep him from getting too bummed out, but I don’t think he’d really want me following him. Back in the day, I was the only one Ax really felt comfortable leaning on, but now he has Menderash. In a way, Ax and I had kind of switched places. He was in a relationship, he was surrounded by other Andalites, and he was as happy as he could be considering the circumstances. I, on the other hand, was still the only Bird Boy in the known universe. It’s not that it made me bitter, not really. I could see how much Menderash and Ax cared for each other, and it only ever made me happy for them both, even if Menderash doesn’t seem to like me at all. But sometimes, I miss being the one Ax leaned on the most.

<I’ll fill you in on what I can when we’re done. Okay?> I said to him as he left. He tilted a stalk eye at me in confirmation before the door closed behind him.

Jake gave the room a moment to breathe. “Alright,” he said. “Walk me through this virus.”

Melissa took a deep breath. “So, normally, this kind of thing wouldn’t work. At all. There are, like, one thousand protections against hacking into another ship. I mean, that’s primarily the main move of a space pirate—”

“There are space pirates?” asked Santorelli, sitting up a little taller.

Melissa blinked. “Why wouldn’t there be?”

“I never thought this day would come,” said Santorelli. “I am forever changed after receiving this information.”

“Um. Yeah. I mean, they’re super evil, but they’re out there, and the _first_ thing a pirate does is try and break into the ship’s inner network. Various species use different networking techniques, and the more advanced the species, the harder hacking it gets. Normally, high tech species like Andalites and Yeerks are absolutely impossible to infiltrate.” She gave a soft smile. “ _Normally_ . Fortunately, there’s a weakness on the Blade ship. I know _exactly_ where it is, and _exactly_ how to exploit it,” said Melissa proudly. She was becoming more and more animated. “You guys ever hear of the Star Trek script?”

Marco and I said, “Which one?” in unison. We glanced at each other, then looked away.

“Not like, a TV show script. It was sort of a prank virus? It was all the rage among Earth Yeerks. They thought it was really funny that in old sci fi shows everyone always says ‘Computer’ before accessing navigation or whatever. So someone—someone Sarthak knew, in fact—wrote this virus that suppressed the ship’s ability to read internal thought commands, and made it so you could only activate ship systems by saying ‘computer’ out loud.”

Santorelli inclined his head. “That actually is pretty funny,” he said.

“Eh,” said Marco.

“It got installed as a joke in a few bug fighters and small ships. Eventually people started getting really creative with the call word. So instead of ‘Computer’, it’d be Yeerkish for, like, ‘Shithead.’”

“Okay, _that’s_ funny,” said Marco, almost reluctantly.

“So, one day, someone installed the Star Trek script in the Blade ship,” said Melissa, her tone getting lighter and her words coming faster. She was excited. “It was for two weeks when the Visser was on Earth for something, and it was really, really risky. They changed the systems to answer to _Rosketh,_ which is Yeerkish for— well, there’s a lot of layers, and it’s not important, but it was basically a joke about the Visser’s whole Andalite, uh, _thing_. Everyone had fun with it, and uninstalled it before the Visser could find out. No one told on the programmers at all. Everyone hated the Visser on that ship, so.”

“And the installing and uninstalling of this script was imperfect,” said Jeanne slowly.

Melissa nodded eagerly. “See, initially, manual input had never even occurred to Yeerks. Their first introduction to modern technology came from Andalites, right? So of course, they developed tech that read their thoughts rather than typed commands or voices. That definitely lead to chaos back in the day, seeing as how Yeerks still haven’t managed to suppress their host’s abilities to, you know, think, so security authorization became _really_ picky. The Star Trek script temporarily took all that away, which is fine among a trusted crew! But once the script got uninstalled, there were some holes in the user authentication that could be exploited. The software engineers used it as a thought experiment all the time. Just a thought experiment, though.” She grinned. “In order to do some _really_ nasty stuff, one would need absolutely _perfect_ knowledge of Yeerkish software language, and all the time in the world.”

Marco wrapped Jake’s flannel around him, frowning. “Then how the hell did this virus come about?” he asked.

“Me!” said Melissa, so proud that her shoulders rose up a little.

Marco studied Melissa. To anyone else, he looked unimpressed, but I had fought a war with him. He looked that way whenever he was calculating all the angles no one else could see. It made me feel really uncomfortable. What could he possibly be looking for?

I’m not naive. I was there through everything. I was there for David. I got why Jake called us all down here, why he hadn’t let Estrid leave, why he asked Ax to step away. If he didn’t take those steps, I wouldn’t feel safe at all, and I’d be pretty mad. That didn’t mean I actually thought Melissa was all that dangerous. The idea that someone lived in Santa Barbara, was hired by Cassie, and used that connection to search for her Controller mom was way, _way_ more likely than someone with Melissa’s unique set of coincidences and circumstances just _happening_ to be a terrorist hell bent on all our deaths. It was simple probability. It was math.

I’d found a mom, once, and so had Marco. For me, that was more than enough just to listen to her. I guess Marco felt differently.

Melissa didn’t notice Marco at all. She just kept talking, all animated and bright. “I came back to no family, and the friends I had were scared of me now. So as soon as I could, I started working on this. What else was I supposed to do all day, you know? I took the money that dad left me in his will, and what I got from mom’s accounts after the Lost In Space Act was passed, and I got all the equipment I needed. It just— it became my hobby, I guess. Some people in the office had a weekly bar trivia team, I had, you know,” she gestured vaguely. “This.”

“The office as in Cassie’s team,” said Jake slowly.

“Yeah,” said Melissa weakly. “Um. She said she asked you guys, but you never said anything to her, so she just, sort of, you know. Snuck me in the night before you left.”

Jake took a deep breath, processing. “What was your _plan_ ?” he asked, some of his latent anger seeping through. “What have you been _eating_?”

“I brought some nutrition bars and stuff,” she said.

“And when were you going to talk to us?” asked Jake. “When you ran out of food?”

“No, I was going to figure it out before!” she said. Then she paused. “Probably.”

Jake sighed. “And what has your _cat_ been eating?” he asked.

“Oh, Sushi?” said Melissa, as if she was surprised we’d bring up her cat.

“ _Sushi?_ ” said Marco, as if he was super offended.

<That’s a cute cat name,> I said, basically just to piss off Marco. I actually didn’t love the idea of a cat running around. Cats don’t really like me. They don’t see me as a gentle boy who loves listening to purring, they just see a predator who would sooner eat them than pet their little nose bridges. It hurts, but I get it.

Melissa smiled. “I wouldn’t leave without him,” she said. “Cassie also smuggled a year’s supply of food for him. And litter. It’s in Storeroom M.”

“How the _hell_ did she—whatever,” said Marco, flopping backwards dramatically and closing his eyes. “It’s neutered, right?”

“Of course he is!”

“What does that matter?” asked Santorelli. He was grinning. “Do you think we’re gonna run into the Andrew Lloyd Webber’s _Cats_ planet and Sushi’ll get all worked up about Rum Tum Tugger?”

Marco closed his eyes as if to shut Santorelli out. “The balls, my friend,” he muttered. His words were playful, but his tone wasn’t. “If anyone tries to spy on us by morphing the cat, the cat’ll have balls.”

<Who is going to spy on us,> I asked. <Who do you think is going to somehow board this ship and hang out in morph. Who.>

Marco didn’t respond to me. His fists were balled so tightly his knuckles were white. Whatever anger had been loosened from him during the Z-space jump was back.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open.

I knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“So you wrote this _all by yourself_?” he asked, his tone sickly sweet.

Melissa hesitated, sensing something was wrong. “Yes,” she said.

“And no one helped you? Just little Melissa Chapman, all alone in her apartment, designing a big bad virus all on her own?” She didn’t say anything. She looked a little scared. Marco smirked. “So what was like?”

“What was what like?” asked Melissa.

Marco smiled at her, and his smile was sinister and goading. “Fucking your slug,” he said slowly, drawing it out for effect.

“ _No_!” shouted Melissa, her voice carrying in the empty storage room. Jeanne jerked forward, fury blatant on her face, and I swear to god she was going to punch Marco in the face. Santorelli grabbed Jeanne’s wrist and shook his head. I wished Santorelli hadn’t stopped her. Marco needed a punch, and I couldn’t do it.

<You _know_ she’s not voluntary,> I said to him in private thought speak. <You were _there._ How could you _say_ that?>

Marco waved a dismissive hand toward me. He laughed darkly. “So you just _happened_ to retain all the skills your Yeerk had. Super common thing that goes down when someone is busy being tortured from inside their own body. That’s why we have tens of thousands of overnight astrophysicists and mathematicians— oh wait, we don’t, because the only humans that retained _anything_ were the ones sucking the Empire’s dick. Charming.”

“Marco,” warned Jake.

“What!” said Marco. “I know what goes on at NASA. I know who these people are.”

“It wasn’t like that!” shouted Melissa.

“Do you need to leave, too?” snapped Jake.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m acting up in Walmart,” hissed Marco. “I’m _right._ The sickest symbiotes are the ones taken against their will who then _leaned into it._ ”

“Let me talk,” said Melissa, her voice wavering but strong. She started pacing a little, wrapping herself up in her own arms, her oversized pink sweater hiding her hands. She looked like a pillar of nervous energy and boiled over rage. She faced the wall while she spoke. “My parents had made deals with their Yeerks to get me a kind one. They got me Sarthak 733. But she _wasn’t_ kind. At all. She _ignored_ me.”

Melissa paused for a moment, wiping at the corner of her eye with her hands still hidden in a sweater. The fabric came back with tiny wet dots on it, turning pink into red. Tears streamed, uninterrupted, down her face, but the rest of her held strong. Ex-hosts were just as good as Animorphs when it came to ignoring their own bodies, perhaps even better.

“When I’d be in the cages, you know, we’d talk, me and the other controllers, and I’d find myself feeling _jealous_ of that their Yeerks messed with them. Like, that’s _something_ . That’s _something_ . With Sarthak? There was _nothing_ . I would scream and scream and she wouldn’t care. She was immune to it. She wasn’t bothered. Do you understand? Sarthak didn’t _care._ About me, about infestation, about anyone else. She even scared other Yeerks. She was _soulless._ ”

Melissa started to sway, just a little, rocking side to side. I think she was just comforting herself, but she looked possessed. “ I could get her to talk to me if I asked about her work. That’s the only thing Sarthak liked. Code, lines and lines of code, and only code. She liked having an audience for the clever things she was doing. I started— I started—” she paused and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her expression was completely flat. “I started looking forward to learning with her. It was all I had. Do you understand _that?_ Sarthak only cared about code, so _I_ only cared about code. She would explain something, and then go back to ignoring me, and all I _had_ was the new line she had written, or the problem she had just solved.I’d just be there, inside myself, seeing the same lines over and over and over.” Melissa stopped swaying, but she didn’t turn around. “Eventually, I got to where I could help her. Whenever I saw something she missed, she would reward me with control of my right index finger.” With her back still turned, Melissa went entirely still, and curled her finger over and over. “She gave me this. Just this.”

Slowly, Melissa turned and stared at the group. Before, she had looked like a little girl in an oversized sweater, young and naive. Now, she looked like a creature that didn’t quit fit her own skin, something bitter and seething. The only thing that moved on her face were her tears. “When the Andalites forced Sarthak out of me, I wanted to kill her myself. I had a _right_ to kill her. They wouldn’t let me. I fought so hard they had to pump me full of drugs and when I woke up? I fought all over again. So no. _No._ I am _not_ voluntary.”

No one in the room spoke. No one in the room _moved_.

Finally, Jake spoke up. “Marco?” he said.

“What,” said Marco tersely.

“Get out. Now,” said Jake.

Marco and Jake stared at each other, both fuming. Marco suddenly launched himself forward and stormed out of the room. He hit the door frame with his fist as he left. The sound of it was a violent _crack_ , like lightning, like a warning of a storm to come.

Jake knelt down next to Melissa. “I want to trust you,” he said, soft and earnest. “I hope you understand that. But _because_ I want to trust you, I need to take time to verify everything you have said.”

“I know,” said Melissa.

“Jahar is some crazy hacker, correct?” he said to Estrid.

<The best in the known universe,> said Estrid.

“Good. Do you think we can get her and Alloran to look at this?”

<Perhaps,> said Estrid, tail two feet over her head again. <Will you give me a copy?>

“Whatever you need,” said Melissa, her tone still flat.

“Good,” said Jake. “Contact her.” Estrid stared at him. “ _Now,_ ” he said. Estrid left in a dramatic huff.

Jake leaned against the wall and massaged his temples. “Okay,” he said, almost too quietly to hear, like he was confirming something to himself. “We’ll have Menderash put in some extra cameras, just to be safe, and we’ll keep her under watch for three days. If she’s clean, then we’ll test her for the Thrall.”

“The Thrall?” asked Melissa.

“You’ll see,” said Jake. “It sucks. Jeanne, Sergeant, you take the first watch. You know more about symbiotes and aftermath infestation than any of us, so keep your eyes peeled. I’ll let you know how we’re going to organize the shifts once I have a clearer head.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Sergeant and Jeanne in unison.

<Do you want me to do anything?> I asked.

“Yeah,” said Jake. “You know how to use the Z-space communicator, right?”

I hesitated. <Yeah,> I said slowly. I don’t know why I was embarrassed about it. It was no secret that I was trying to connect with Loren. It just felt weird, like if I admitted I was doing it publicly, then suddenly everyone would sit around waiting for me to morph human. I can’t stand being seen by anyone but Loren if I’m human. It’s not that it’s any easier with Loren, either, it’s just that she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need me reminding her that her son was so messed up that he liked being a bird more than a boy. I could pull it together for her, but not for anyone else.

The moment didn’t register with Jake at all. “Track down Cassie,” he said. “I think the easiest way will be to ping NASA, then have someone on Earth find her and call us back. It’s going to be a hassle. She doesn’t stay in one place for long. When she gets back to us, we are going to give her _hell._ ”

  



	4. Jake

> MELISSA’S DIARY, JANUARY 14TH, 2005
> 
> _ The diary is half journal, half planner, and is leather bound and hot pink. Melissa has written in it nearly every day. There are no doodles, and her handwriting is meticulous and neat.  _
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Sorry I haven’t written in you for a whole week! I know, you’re a diary, you can’t think or feel feelings. But you were once a tree, and I think that counts for something.
> 
> Today is my two year anniversary _. _ Two years Sarthak-free. The last time I slipped out of my consciousness was thirteen months ago, when I lost track of myself watching  _ Dawson’s Creek _ DVDs. I came to and the menu was repeating. it was 8:07 AM, and I was late for work. My body hurt all over but otherwise it wasn’t too bad. And I told Dr. Lehmann about it right away! She said to keep tracking it, but otherwise assured me that recovery is a lifelong process, and sometimes things just happen. Then she immediately told me not to stress about it, or apply any of my perfectionist thinking. Having a therapist is weird. It’s like hiring a mind reader to remind you of all your bad parts. I like you better, diary. Don’t tell Dr. Lehmann.
> 
> Anyway. I didn’t tell anyone it was my anniversary. I thought I didn’t want people to make a big deal out of it. But Cassie called me into her office today. For a second, my heart got all fast, like maybe she knew the date and had remembered and had some kind of cupcake for me. I guess I wanted someone to notice after all? It would have been a nice thing to celebrate with family or friends, but I don’t have either of those. Cassie’s the closest thing I have.
> 
> “Close the door,” she said as soon as I walked in. I froze for a minute, but she gave me a reassuring smile. “You’re not in trouble, I just have something really heavy to tell you.”
> 
> This is why I love Cassie. She can  _ also _ read my mind. Well, that, and I have giant dumb alien eyes that show every emotion I am thinking of even a little bit, even if the rest of me isn’t even really having that emotion. 
> 
> Is it okay to say something is ugly by saying it looks like an “alien”? Is that offensive now? I wonder. Probably not. Hork-Bajir have to realize they’re pretty ugly. Right?
> 
> Whatever. The point is, I was called into Cassie’s office and the door was closed.
> 
> She looked at me and breathed in and out. “They did it,” she said quietly. “They found the Blade ship.”
> 
> I’m sure my giant dumb alien eyes immediately got excited and hopeful, even if the rest of me knew better. If everyone got rescued off the Blade ship, Cassie would have said so. I’m pretty sure my eyes betrayed that emotion too, because the next thing Cassie said was a very quiet, “I’m sorry.”
> 
> I made myself to stay calm. “Is she still alive?” I asked.
> 
> Cassie got that look that she gets when I talk about my mom being alive, all wistful and distant and depressed. Look, I know better than anyone that finding my mom and bringing her back would be an absolute miracle. I get told, over and over, how my ship was never actively running from the empire, that the  _ Rek Dharsat  _ was a low-class carrier without fancy defenses, that the Yeerks had record of where we were and what our duties were—where  _ the crew _ was, what  _ the crew’s _ duty was, not we, not us, not I—and that intelligence had leaked it to the  _ Intrepid _ . I know. I know all that.
> 
> “She’s alive,” said Cassie. “But she’s not living.”
> 
> She told me everything.
> 
> Some kind of big scary alien took over the Blade ship, an alien with more power than even the Andalites with their morphing tech. 
> 
> Cassie told me all this and I made sure I sat up straight and stayed steady and made my giant dumb alien eyes stay neutral.
> 
> Eventually, Cassie frowned at me. “Melissa?” she said, waving her hand in front of my face like she thought I was slipping. I flinched and scowled at her.
> 
> “I’m fine,” I said.
> 
> Cassie leaned back in her chair and sighed. “You’re not,” she muttered.
> 
> “I really am,” I said. “The odds of finding my mom were already one billion to one. Now they’re one trillion to one. It’s not really that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things.”
> 
> Cassie considered me. I smiled at her, and she frowned.
> 
> “I really am okay,” I said. “Any news is good news, right?”
> 
> “Melissa,” she said, almost reprimanding me.
> 
> “Cassandra,” I said, matching her tone. I stuck my tongue out at her. She was my boss and we didn’t have much of a relationship outside of that, but I could get away with some little things now and then, seeing how we had shared a best friend and everything.
> 
> She gave me a small smile. “Do you need anything?” she asked, her voice all soft. “Do you want the day off?”
> 
> “Nope,” I said. “I want to keep going as normal, because my mom is still lost but still alive, so nothing has changed.” I paused. “Actually, no,” I said. “I want some of the Reese’s peanut butter cups I  _ know  _ you have in your drawer.”
> 
> She looked surprised for a moment, then she laughed. “How many?” she asked.
> 
> “Six,” I said. “No, seven. No, eight. Can I just have a handful?”
> 
> She gave me candy and then I started to leave her office. As my hand touched the doorknob, I found myself turning around without really even realizing it. “Is anyone going after it?” I asked, my mouth moving without my permission (and also full of chocolate.)
> 
> Cassie blinked. “I’m sorry?” she asked.
> 
> “The One. Is anyone going to find it? Like, Jake and Marco and them, are they going to go back for more than just Aximili-Esgaruth— routh— reth—”
> 
> Cassie looked pained. “Please, just call him Ax,” she said. “I give you permission.”
> 
> “If they’re going, I want to go too,” I said.
> 
> “They won’t let you,” said Cassie firmly.
> 
> I must have looked crushed. I turned and twisted the doorknob.
> 
> Then, suddenly, I turned around to face her again. “Um, so I own a bunch of illegal Yeerk tech?”
> 
> “ _ What? _ ” said Cassie. She was completely shocked. I could have worded that better.
> 
> “I’ve been working on a virus,” I said. “For two years. It’s kind of the only thing I do, and it’s basically done, and it could help them out a  _ lot. _ ”
> 
> I told Cassie everything.  _ Everything _ . When I was done, she leaned back in her chair, totally baffled. She knew I was good at computer stuff, but I don’t think she knew  _ how _ good.
> 
> “I won’t tell anyone about this,” she said slowly. “Would you be willing to just send them the virus?”
> 
> “I could,” I said. “It’s best if someone who can write code is there to block any attempts at reverse engineering. But if it helps them, they can absolutely have it! I’m writing it to give my mom a chance. I don’t  _ have _ to be there.”
> 
> Cassie pressed her lips together. “No one on that ship knows anything about Yeerks, not when it comes to their tech or their software.” 
> 
> She glanced at a photo on her wall. It was taken at the grand opening of  _ Free _ , the center for ex-host research and aid _.  _ It was a group photo for the press. Cassie was in the center, next to Jake, Marco, and Marco’s mom. She looked back at me. “Nothing about that ship is heroic,” she said, sounding suddenly bitter. “They’re just creating bigger and bigger problems to solve, rather than healing themselves from inside.”
> 
> I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I don’t think there was anything to say to it, really. So I just said, “I just want to give my mom a chance. That’s all.”
> 
> Cassie closed her eyes. She sighed deeply. She popped a Reese’s cup in her mouth, chewed for a little, then sighed again. “I’ll ask,” she said. “But I  _ know _ they won’t let you. But sometimes?” She smiled. “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”  
>    
>    
> 

* * *

**JAKE**  
  


It had been three days of debate, research, and conversations.

We reached out to Cassie, who verified the story. Marco screamed at her through the Z-space communicator, which she took with an unflappable patience, and that somehow ended up upsetting Marco even more. He stormed off to his cabin and didn’t appear for nearly two days, which was honestly a blessing. His opposition was becoming senseless, and we needed to focus.

We looked up Sarthak 733 in every Yeerk registry. Melissa’s story checked out, right down to co-worker complaints about Sarthak’s cold and isolated nature. Marco asked for a roster of which Yeerks and hosts were on the Blade ship. I didn’t need one. I knew a person named Kaye Chapman was there. I had memorized that list years ago. I’d just never made the connection.

Jeanne and the Sergeant went through everything in Melissa’s bag, and then searched the rest of the storeroom. While Melissa did have some Yeerk equipment, she was happy to let us study it, and had a solid explanation for everything she owned. None of her things generated Kandrona, and she didn’t eat anything that wasn’t from the ship’s pantry. 

There was only one angle we still hadn’t verified, one thing that was a real and legitimate possibility. I had put it off as long as I could. 

I walked into storage room F, flanked by Ax, Menderash, and Marco. As soon as Melissa saw me, her eyes went wide and she straightened where she sat. I hadn’t done a shift watching her. She knew my presence meant a decision had been made.

Jeanne was on the current watch. She was sitting cross legged across from Melissa, playing cards. Melissa had a deck that was all cats. “Jeanne, you can go,” I said. She hesitated. “Please,” I said firmly. Jeanne put a hand on Melissa’s shoulder, squeezed it, and then walked out the door without a word. It closed behind her. 

“We believe you,” I said.

I heard Marco mutter, “ _ You _ believe her.” I turned and glared at him. I didn’t want him here, but we needed him. He was under strict instructions to keep his mouth shut, which I hadn’t really expected him to actually do. He leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and raised his eyebrows at me. I mouthed “don’t” at him. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t push anything. It would have to do for now.

I turned back to Melissa. “How much did Cassie tell you about The One?” I asked.

Melissa took a deep breath. “Enough,” she said softly, “She told me it’s basically a god, and that it’s so out of control that other, um, gods are mad at it. She also told me that everyone on the Blade ship is under its spell. Yeerks  _ and _ hosts.” Her voice broke on the word ‘host,’ but she didn’t start crying. I was glad she was holding it in. I wasn’t sure if I could handle her breaking down again.

“She’s right,” I said. “No one on that ship is in control of themselves.” I looked at Ax. Menderash had placed a hand between Ax’s shoulders, and had curled his fingers in Ax’s fur. They weren’t very physical when Ax wasn’t in human morph, and even then it was typically when they were drinking. It felt like some kind of violation to see Menderash comfort Ax with touch, even if I had orchestrated the situation. I looked away. “We don’t know much about The One’s thrall. We don’t know how it holds, how it’s passed. Your mother is on the Blade ship, that’s clearly shown in the Yeerks’ records. The Blade ship has enough complex shielding systems that it could easily land on Earth in secret. Your mom could have found her way to you. You would have trusted her immediately. The One could be puppeting your every move, and you might not even realize it.”

Melissa nodded, paling.

I nodded to Marco. His arms started bubbling out, bulging like something inside him was trying to escape and getting bigger by the second. “I want you to know that we think this is a long shot, but we’ve come across our fair share of long shots, and they’re more common than you think. It’s not fun. It sucks. A lot. For everyone. For Ax, especially. Remove your hearing aid, please.” 

Melissa had gone completely white. Her eyes were glued on Marco, who still had human skin, but a gorilla’s shape, and a mouth that was cut into a wide red slit. He blew her a kiss. With shaking hands, she detached her pink hearing aid. “Why?” she asked.

“The One possessed Ax for some time,” I said. “The One left a small piece of itself in Ax to keep us in line. We haven’t seen it for a while, but…”

<It is still there,> said Ax. Menderash made a fist with his prosthetic.

“The last time we did this, Ax had a major reaction,” I said. “We’re thinking he’ll react again. If he doesn’t, then this was a waste of time. If he does, and you don’t? Then we’ll know we can trust you.”

Marco finished his morph. That meant it was time to do my own. I trusted myself with the Howler now, but it was a shaking trust, and I was much happier having both Ax and a battle morphed Marco in the room while I took this shape. My eyes went first, leaving me human with glowing red eyes. That was  _ easily _ the scariest way to start the morph. Melissa screamed and covered her mouth. Sometimes morphing was gross, sometimes it was senseless, and sometimes, I swear to god, it had a sense of humor. “It’s okay,” I said with a voice that had dropped three octaves. That didn’t help.

Ax faced Menderash. They spoke something to one another, something they didn’t share. Eventually, Menderash nodded, placed his hand on Ax’s cheek, and turned to stand out in the hallway. Menderash had come as a comfort to Ax. Being somewhere else when I Howled was probably the most comforting thing Menderash could do.

My morph finished. I didn’t want to waste any more time. <You know how whenever you go to a doctor and they tell you ‘there’s going to be a little pressure,’ and that’s how you know something is going to hurt like hell?> I said.

“Uh-huh,” said Melissa, backing into the wall.

<There’s going to be a little pressure, Melissa.> And then I Howled.

The room shook with it, boxes of supplies moving around like overloaded washing machines. Marco cried out, and gorillas were too close to human for the sound to be all animal. His pain was both a roar and a bellow, monster and man all at once. Melissa began to shriek, thin and shrill, and it struck a sick harmony with Marco and me. We were a chord made from demon and beast and pain, and the Howler delighted in it. To the Howler, we were a choir, and this was a well-loved nursery rhyme.

Melissa lay on her side, covering her ears, and she rocked back and forth. She did not cry out like Ax had done. She did not attempt to warn us of any twisted plan.

I looked toward Ax.

He was flickering between android, alien, Andalite, android, alien, Andalite. It was working. The Howl affected whatever made up The One.

I stopped the Howl abruptly. I went to Ax and held him down as he settled back into his Andalite form. He slumped down to the floor fast, too fast, like his legs were giving up against his own will.

<Shit,> I said.

Menderash rushed into the room, and knelt down next to Ax. He spoke privately again, but his face showed clear panic and concern. Slowly, Marco made his way over to them. He was clearly disoriented, but he’d muddled his way through the Howl a few times now, and if an Animorph could do one thing it was adapt quickly.

<Is he good to move?> asked Marco.

Menderash placed his prosthetic on Ax’s body, close to one of his forelegs. “I am reading his vitals now,” he said.

I started demorphing. <Your—uh—arm can do that?> I asked, surprised.

“Yes,” said Menderash through gritted teeth.

<What else can it do?> I asked.

Menderash whipped his head around to glare at me, his loosely curled hair fanning out behind him. “I am no mood to discuss my achievements.”

“I, uh. Yeah,” I said with my freshly formed mouth. “I guess not.”

“He can be moved,” said Menderash. He stood up and gestured toward Ax impatiently while looking at Marco. Marco complied without a word, which either meant he was still disorientated from the Howl, he was sensitive enough to Menderash’s concern that he didn’t need to joke,  _ or _ that he planned to take my request for silence way too far. I’d find out. Marco scooped up Ax and the three of them left, leaving me alone with Melissa.

When I was done demorphing, I felt a heaviness settle all throughout my body. I sighed, reminding myself that caution was key, and that caution saved lives, and that even if Ax was unconscious and Melissa was in pain, I’d made the best choice I possibly could make. It wasn’t a sick, twisted, desperate choice, not like ordering Ax to kill Chapman. I’d made worse calls than this one. Calls that lead to death. This was mild, all things considered. I could stand up to it. I was fine.

The door closed behind us. It was just me and Melissa in the room now, surrounded by cardboard boxes and dust. I walked over and unplugged every camera Menderash had installed, even the two secret ones. Maybe we were paranoid, but we were alive. 

Melissa looked at me, stiff and nervous and suspicious. I sat down on a box that had become a makeshift chair, resting my elbows on my knees. “Melissa,” I said, my mouth feeling dry. I swallowed. “You know the story of Eva Ruiz, right?”

She nodded slowly. I smiled bitterly. “Tell it to me,” I said.

“Um,” she started, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Marco knew his mom was Visser One and vowed to save her. When Visser One was put on trial, he saw an opening and took it. I read the book.”

“That’s what Marco  _ says  _ happened,” I said. “That’s not really how it went down.”

She looked up at me, blinking. Her eyes were innocent and wide, and it broke my heart to tell her the gritty versions of our stories, the versions that don’t make it to the media, the versions we keep to ourselves. I breathed through the memory, ignoring the sick feelings my body was going through; the weakness in my limbs, the dryness in my mouth, the sweat on my neck. My mom and Eva had been best friends. She was family to me, too, but both Marco and I understood that the real Eva had died years ago, and I understood that Marco didn’t understand that at all.

“Marco faced Visser One four times,” I said, forcing myself to go on, “The first two times, he couldn’t do anything. The third time, he planned her death, and almost executed it perfectly. The fourth time, he had Eva, and spoke to her as son to mother. She told us to put Visser One back in, to let Visser One live. And Marco did.”

I looked at Melissa. Predictably, tears were streaming down her face. I understood why. It was a sad story. I wondered if I’d ever properly cried about it. I couldn’t remember.

“Do you know the story of Rachel and Tom Berenson?” I asked, and the world went static around me.

“I thought I did,” she said quietly. I nodded, and I didn’t say anything. I needed a moment to gather myself, to wait for the pressure in my ears to subside. Sushi crawled out from behind some boxes, and curled into Melissa’s lap. She pet him with shaking hands.

“Rachel didn’t heroically stow away on the Blade ship on her own,” I said. My voice was distant. “I sent her there. My brother didn’t die randomly in battle. She targeted him, and she bit him in half.”

“I’m sorry,” said Melissa, her voice hardly a whisper.

“That’s not what I want to hear,” I said.

“No—no,” said Melissa. She wiped at her eyes, and forced her voice out stronger. “Not that kind of sorry. I’m sorry I’m crying. This isn’t my story, and I hate it when people get all horrified about my stuff. It’s just—” her breath hitched. “I’m really prone to crying.” She smiled, then she laughed. It was a small laugh, and it was mixed with a sob, but she laughed. I found myself smiling. She wasn’t mixing humor with panic like Marco. She was finding a genuine moment, and it made me want to find something, too.

“I know why you’re telling me this,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could considering the tears streaming down her face. “You want me to have a realistic view of how likely it is that I can rescue my mom.”

“Yes,” I said.

Melissa closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She let it out slowly. “I know. I know how small the chances are, how insane this all is. I know I’m throwing away  _ my _ second chance, which was already pretty impossible, to ask for even more. But a second chance means nothing if you don’t do anything with it, right? I can’t just settle for living some day to day life, not after everything.”

“I get that,” I said quietly.

“So, for my second chance? I choose hope. Maybe some people like to keep their expectations low, but I don’t. Hope is what got me through my time with Sarthak, you know? Now that my time is my own again, I want every day to be as happy as I can make it. That doesn’t always mean that every day is happy, but when it’s not, at least I’ve surrounded myself with cute things and pretty clothes and Sushi.” She smiled, scratching the cat’s ears. It purred so loud I could hear it. “And hope. Small hope, like how I hope no one gets eliminated on  _ American Idol _ and instead they all form a band. Big hope, like finding my mom. Cassie thinks too much hope is bad, but I disagree. If hope leads to being crushed, fine, because that meant I had a ton of really great days leading up to all those bad ones. If I lose all my hope, if everything goes wrong, fine. I’ve lost hope before, so I know I’m strong enough to find it again.”

She picked up her cat and placed it against her shoulder. She bumped the cat’s head with her nose. “And if it makes you feel any better, I got something very few people with infested families got,” she said. She set her cat down and smiled. “I got to say goodbye to my parents. My real parents, uninfested. It was this whole thanks for the good behavior kind of thing. It made me so sad at the time, but now, the memory makes me really happy. I got so much closure. I got to hear my parents say they loved me, and mean it.”

I felt my throat catch. Her crying thing was almost infectious. Almost.

She met my eyes. “And I know better than anyone that death is a welcome mercy for a host. You get that, right? I was infested for four years.  _ Four years.  _ It’s been longer for my mom. So if you’re asking me if I’m ready to see my mom die, yeah, I am, and I think of that as a pretty good outcome. But if you’re asking me to give up hope and be realistic?  _ That _ ? I won’t do.”

I stepped back. I looked at her.

She was almost the same height as Cassie, but much thinner, like a doll, like something intricate and fragile. Still, they had the same expressiveness in their eyes, the same spark that said they would rush into a city that was up in flames and not rest until every citizen was safe. I smiled at her as best I could, and I think it was a real smile in the end. She had strength in her, and that strength was built of something beautiful, something I had lost long ago. Hope.

I held out a hand. “Welcome to  _ The Rachel, _ ” I said.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I initially thought this fic would take, like, a few weeks at most? But it somehow ended up being a monster with 30 million moving parts. Major shout out to [Cav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavatica) and [Catie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_rowles/pseuds/c_rowles) for their intense and detailed betas. My approach to the English language is loose at best, and beta-ing for me is a nightmare, and I am so happy to have two people gently guiding me to the light. Special shout out to Catie, who pitched the idea of Melissa being a software engineer when I was stressing out that her original role of mechanic wasn't working out. Another shout-out to Cav, who pointed out that ex-hosts would logically suffer from hearing loss, which Catie riffed off of and now we have Melissa's cute af pink hearing aid. Also, many thanks to [Poetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetry), who pointed out ways my weird fake virus-via-prank-script could actually sound semi feasible. I am so lucky to have found such a supportive community of creatives. Thank you, Katherine Applegate and Michael Grant, for writing a book series twenty years ago that changed my life twice.
> 
> Please come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://lilacsolanum.tumblr.com/)!


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